“I’m not finding anything either,” said Ryan. He scanned the incoming messages on his phone. “What’s our timeline thus far?”
“Hannah made her last phone call to Jessica Reynolds on Saturday morning. Up until noon that same day Peter’s phone records indicate fairly normal activity, and then he isn’t seen or heard from aside from twenty-three unanswered texts to his wife’s number. The last text was sent at 3:00 P.M. Monday afternoon. Later that day the house burns to the ground. The neighbor also said the house was unusually quiet over the past three days. We need to figure out what the hell was going on in there.”
“He may have gone postal when Hannah told him she was leaving him for another woman, and we have a murder-suicide on our hands. Wouldn’t be the first time that scenario played out. If the trail of text messages are to believed, that means she may have come home on the night of the fire.”
“Until we’ve formally identified the victims it’s all academic. Are the team at the house any closer to securing the building?”
“Have a little patience. We’ll get access soon enough. We’re just lucky that snowstorm that was supposed to hit here today stayed south of us.”
“Three feet of fresh powder. Maybe we should go skiing.”
“Stay focused, Greeley. Oh,” said Ryan, raising his voice. “What in the hell is this?”
Ryan held up four Polaroids that he’d found in a manila envelope. He handed one to Macy. The subject was young, female, and nude. Her face was covered with a black mask. She was lying back on a bed with her arms flopped to her sides.
“Hannah Granger’s work is known for being controversial, but this is unacceptable,” said Macy.
Ryan handed Macy the remaining photos. There was more than one woman. Three were posed on the same upholstered chair. Only one was on the bed.
“Impossible to tell for sure from the photographs, but I think these women are fairly young,” he said.
“Something about how they’re slumped on the furniture makes them look like they’re sleeping.”
“Or dead.”
Macy lifted an eyebrow. “Or drugged. Where did you find them?”
“Tucked beneath the files in the cabinet. I’ll have a closer look at the images. We may be able to find some distinguishing marks that could help identify them. I can check any details against Missing Persons.”
Macy dropped the photos into an evidence bag and handed them back to Ryan. Both their phones buzzed at the same time.
Ryan read the message out loud. “A homeowner found four fuel cans hidden on their property.”
“How far away from the Granger’s home?”
“Only two doors down, so close enough for it to be significant. I think I should head over and check this out firsthand. Do you need me here anymore?”
“I don’t think I need me here anymore.” Macy checked the time. A visit to Peter’s office at the Bridger Cultural Center would have to wait until morning. “You go on,” she said. “I’ll finish up here.”
“It may be wishful thinking, but should we try for dinner?”
“If I remember correctly there’s a nice tapas place a couple of blocks from Main. It stays open late.”
“Sounds good. I’ll give you a shout if and when I’m finished.”
* * *
Macy picked up the framed photo of Hannah Granger and Jessica Reynolds. They looked relaxed in each other’s company. Hannah had one arm draped around Jessica’s shoulders. They were caught mid-laugh. Their relationship complicated things. Macy would have to look more carefully at the Granger’s marriage. Ryan was right. It could have been a murder-suicide. The timing certainly fit. The question was whether Peter Granger would have been distraught enough to kill his wife when he found out she wanted a divorce. Then again, Hannah may not have ever planned on telling Peter anything. She may have been stringing Jessica along. It was strange that Cornelia Hart hadn’t mentioned it. Though she’d admitted that the pair fought, she’d gone out of her way to say how strong the relationship was. Perhaps she was also protecting the brand.
Macy scrolled through the messages on her phone. Her mother had sent her a couple of photos of Luke in his Halloween costume. He’d had his heart set on dressing like a lion, but at the last minute he’d insisted on going as a pirate because that’s what all the other boys in his nursery school were doing. Thankfully Ellen was a master of improvisation. Macy leaned on the window as she keyed in her mother’s phone number. The phone rang several times before Ellen answered. There were sounds of a restaurant in the background. Macy checked the time. It was half past eight.
“Mom, sorry to disturb you. I didn’t realize you were going out for dinner tonight.”
Ellen had to raise her voice to be heard.
“I completely forgot there was a Chamber of Commerce dinner this evening. Sarah is babysitting Luke. I was lucky to get her at short notice.”
“That will be a treat for him. He loves Sarah.”
“We’re going to miss her when she starts college next fall. Is everything okay there?”
“It’s fine. Just wanted to check in. We’ll speak tomorrow.”
Macy locked Hannah’s office door and went in search of a women’s bathroom. The dimly lit corridor was empty and as far as she could tell the offices on Hannah’s end of the building had been vacated for the night. After she washed her hands, Macy studied her reflection in the bathroom mirror. There had been a lot of upheaval in her life over the past few years, but things had taken a decidedly positive turn over the past few months. It was still a little difficult to understand how she’d managed to pull off some semblance of happiness. She knew her relationship with Aiden had a lot to do with that. There were no head games. She realized that hope was something she’d been lacking for a very long time. Her son, Luke, may have gotten her out of bed in the morning and forced her to confront the day regardless of what was coming, but it was Aiden who made her feel loved. Her job wasn’t easy. Knowing there was a safe place she could go when everything got to be too much made it bearable.
Macy turned away from the mirror. The door leading out into the corridor was ajar. It sounded like someone was running down the hallway. It wasn’t yet nine o’clock, so it was perfectly feasible that other people were in the building. She slung her messenger bag over her shoulder and stepped outside. The light in Hannah Granger’s office was on. Macy looked up in time to see the stairwell door at the far end of the building swing shut. She ran the length of the corridor. An alarm sounded as she started down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairwell the emergency exit door was hanging open. Outside the night air was cold and clear. Macy headed up a short set of steps and found herself on one of the main paths that cut across the campus. Lampposts dotted the grounds. The shadows were too numerous to count. She waited and watched, but aside from a couple strolling hand in hand, there was no sign of the person she’d seen at the top of the stairwell.
* * *
The only seats free at the tapas restaurant were at the bar. Ryan had given the menu a cursory glance before getting frustrated. He told Macy to order something for them to share. He had more luck with the wine. Within seconds of studying the list he picked out a bottle of Rioja.
“I have zero willpower,” he said, handing the wine list back to the bartender before turning to Macy. “I am, of course, blaming you.”
“I’ll drink water before I let you pin this on me,” she said.
Ryan pretended to be shocked. “Not on my watch you won’t. Let’s compromise and get a glass each. For me that’s a major sacrifice.”
“I’m sure the world will acknowledge your suffering.”
“Your sarcasm is duly noted.” He waved the bartender over. “Scratch the bottle and bring us two large glasses instead.”
“Still a slippery slope,” said Macy. “Are you sure you’ll be able to stick to one glass?”
“I’m hoping you’ll be my conscience.”
Macy raised an eyebrow. “In that case
we’re in trouble. So, who’s this guy you met anyway?”
“He’s in my support group.”
“Alcoholics Anonymous?”
Ryan lifted the glass of wine that the bartender set down in front of him and had a taste. He had a familiar look of glee in his eye. “I like my drink but I’m not that far gone. It’s a support group for homosexual men.”
“I had no idea you needed support.”
“Being gay in Montana can be a very lonely existence. It’s nice to be in a safe space where you’re considered completely normal.”
“I can see that.”
“By the way, his name is Paul.”
“And what does Paul do?” asked Macy.
A wicked grin. “Among other things, he has a law practice in Helena.”
“Criminal?”
“Thank God, no. Family law.”
“How long have you been seeing each other?”
“Only a couple of months, but we’ve known each other for years,” said Ryan.
“Sounds promising.”
“Best thing that’s happened to me in a while. How are things with Aiden?”
“Drama free,” said Macy. “He’s been working loads. They’re hoping to start construction on the resort in the spring. He’s been coming down to Helena as often as possible.”
“Must be cozy. How does your mom feel about having him staying at the house?”
“If I’m happy she’s happy. When I come home from work I find them hanging out together in the kitchen. They take turns looking after Luke.”
“Considering your relationship with Ray only ended a little over a year ago, that’s quite a turnaround.” Ryan raised his glass. “Here’s to landing on your feet.”
Macy tried not to let her reservations show. Her life seemed to be on course but she had to be vigilant. Aiden’s predecessor had cast a dark shadow. It was time to steer the conversation back to the investigation.
“So,” said Macy. “Did you find anything on those fuel cans that tied them to the fire at the Granger’s house?”
“Nothing definite yet but, given the proximity and the timing, I’m certain they were used to set the fire.”
“Makes me think we’re dealing with an amateur. No serious arsonist would have left evidence like that so close to the scene.”
“The fuel cans were well-hidden under a tarp in the side yard. The house has been under construction for months now. The homeowner only came to check on things because he was worried that the fire at the Granger’s house may have done some damage. We’re hoping for some prints, but at this point any physical evidence that puts those fuel cans at the Granger residence would be helpful. I’d like a little more than the fire crew’s statements to prove this was arson.”
“You do believe this was arson though?”
“I’m in no doubt. I just need a bit more evidence to prove it to everyone else.”
“The arsonist had to have been familiar with the area to have known that the house where they stashed the fuel cans is unoccupied.”
“That’s my thinking as well. They may have ditched them there temporarily.”
Macy lifted her glass to make room for their first few plates of food.
“There was someone in Hannah Granger’s office besides us this evening,” she said. “After I locked up I went to the bathrooms near the elevator. When I came out, the door to Hannah’s office was wide open. Whoever was there escaped through the emergency exit at the base of the stairwell.”
“Are you sure you locked the door?”
“That’s the one thing I’m absolutely sure of.”
“We should go back and check for prints,” said Ryan.
“The campus police are dealing with it. I’m not hopeful, though. A lot of people move through that building.”
“Was anything missing from the office?”
“No, but the file drawer where you found the Polaroids was open.”
Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Anything else?”
“It looks like they’d gone through some of the papers on the desk as well.”
“We need to find out who else has keys to that office.”
“I’ll chase that up tomorrow. When do you think you’ll have a chance to look at those Polaroids?”
“They’re on their way to Helena now. The forensics team promised to have a look first thing tomorrow morning. I’m hoping to get into the house as early as tomorrow afternoon. Meanwhile, I’ll have a closer look at those fuel cans.”
5
Wednesday
The café’s employee entrance was propped open with a cinder block. It was a little before six thirty in the morning and Grace had not slept well. She’d been tempted to call in sick but changed her mind. Among other things, she needed the money. She stood in a small cramped area stacked with boxes and slowly unwound her scarf. Her manager, Steve, was the only one who ever arrived before she did. The lights in his office were on and she could hear him talking in a low voice over the telephone. Grace stepped into a break room that was located next to the employee entrance. Her locker was shut, but the padlock wasn’t secured. She checked her locker. She’d never given much thought to what she’d thrown into it over the past couple of years—scraps of paper, receipts, and the odd photo. There was nothing of value.
Grace spun around at the sound of her name.
Steve stood in the doorway watching her.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. We’ve got a delivery and you’re the only one here. Do you mind bringing it in? I have to make a couple more phone calls.”
Grace shoved her bag into her locker and swung the door shut. She must have forgotten to close it properly after her last shift. An apron with her name on it was hanging on a hook. She slipped it over her neck.
“It’s out back on the loading bay,” said Steve. “Don’t know why the driver didn’t bring it to the door like he usually does. Some of the boxes are heavy so you’ll have to use the hand truck.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll deal with it.”
“I heard about the fire. Didn’t you know the Grangers?”
Grace put her hand flat against the locker door. She’d written a scathing letter to Peter a few months earlier as a therapeutic exercise. Though she put it in an envelope with his name on it, it was never meant to be sent. She’d written most of it during a break she’d taken at work. Grace opened her locker again. Her hands were trembling. There’d been something of value in the locker after all. Steve moved closer.
“Grace, did you know them?”
“Yeah, I knew them.” She pulled her bag out of the locker and started sifting through the pile of papers on the shelf. “Hannah taught in the art department, and I was in Peter’s writing group.”
The letter wasn’t there. She went through the locker twice. Steve was so close Grace could smell the coffee on his breath. He was wearing cologne. That was different.
“Are you okay to work? If you’re too upset, I’ll find someone to cover your shift,” he said.
Grace put her stuff back into her locker and closed the door. She was trying to remember exactly what she’d written. Vague phrases and entire passages came to mind. At times she’d been harsh. She’d definitely threatened Peter on occasion. Without context she’d sound unhinged, vindictive, and potentially violent. The café’s employee entrance was only a few feet away from the break room and it was often unlocked. Anyone could have snuck in.
Steve put a hand on Grace’s shoulder.
“Hey,” he said. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Grace couldn’t speak. It felt like a grapefruit was lodged in the back of her throat.
“I’ll see if someone can take your shift,” said Steve.
Grace found her voice. “It’s okay. I want to be here.” She paused. “You remember my friend Taylor?”
“Vaguely.”
“Do you know the name of that grad student she was seeing?”
Steve frowned. “I’m n
ot sure who you mean.”
“I saw you talking to him when he came into the café. He’s into cycling. Has red hair.”
“Oh, that’s Alex. He’s South African.”
“Do you know how I can reach him? I’ve been trying to call Taylor but she’s not picking up.”
Steve turned toward the front of the shop. The lights had come on.
“Vicky’s here,” he said. “I forgot I gave her keys to the front door. I’ll need to get them back.”
“It’s important that I talk to Alex. I’m worried about Taylor.”
“They broke up last week.”
“I had no idea,” she said.
“I got the impression it wasn’t mutual.”
“I’m sorry. Alex seemed nice.”
Steve smiled. “It happens. You don’t need to apologize.”
“I’d like that number anyway. He still may know where she is.”
Steve pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts. “I’m texting it to you now.”
Grace felt her phone vibrate in the apron’s pocket. “Thanks,” she said.
Steve continued to hover.
“Look,” he said. “This might not be the right time, but I think you could use a fun night out. Would you like to go to the Steve Earle concert with me? It’s on Friday, so short notice.” Steve’s voice trailed off. “It’s okay to say no.”
At six foot three Steve towered over her. His dark hair and beard were cropped close. He had one eye that wandered ever so slightly. Steve cocked his head to the side. He looked hopeful.
“Was that a yes?” he asked.
Grace’s face felt flushed. “This Friday?”
“I was just offered the tickets and thought of you.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I’d like to come.”
“Great, I’ll pick you up at your place. Are you still in the apartment on Spruce?”
Grace didn’t have a chance to answer. Vicky bustled in the room, bringing her larger-than-life personality with her.
“Why are you two hovering back here?” Vicky said, throwing Steve a sly smile. “You’re not harassing my favorite northern girl, are you?”
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